Infernal Machines Read online

  I shook my head. ‘That matters not. You did not answer my question, Mister Tenebrae. What do you want?’

  ‘I will come with you,’ he said.

  Carnelia gave a snort of derision. ‘You’re Tamberlaine’s man, from crown to crotch. Sissy, he’ll only betray us and turn us over.’

  ‘I am sworn to the Emperor, the protection of his body and heirs, as are all praetorians,’ Tenebrae said.

  I glanced at Lupina, who sat stolidly on the pony, one hand holding her oil-cloak over Fiscelion, keeping him dry from the rain. The sound of crossing swords must soothe him, for he remained quiet.

  ‘His heirs,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ Tenebrae said, and he too looked toward Lupina. ‘I loved your brother. He was …’

  Tenebrae stopped and he swallowed uncomfortably. ‘He was my true soul and that is not an occurrence I can forget or slough off lightly. I would help preserve his memory. His family.’

  ‘You betrayed us to the August Ones. You sold us!’ Carnelia said, furious. She stepped forward, raising her sword.

  ‘No!’ he said, and his voice was desolate. ‘I did not know the contents of the message! Tamberlaine did not trust me with it!’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ I said. ‘We cannot trust you and we cannot ride with you. So what are we to do?’

  ‘You need me.’

  Carnelia made a disgusted sound.

  ‘Harbour Town is no more, blown away on infernal winds. It burns still.’

  ‘So?’ I said.

  ‘If Harbour Town can burn, Rume can burn as well. It takes but innocence, blood, and a hand willing to commit such a heinous crime. The gates are barred. Every person is searched. Trade has stalled.’ Tenebrae took a great breath. ‘You are noble and were not subject to customs and have only been in the Immortal City for hours. But things are desperate. People fear for their safety. This rebel engineer, this Beleth, if he can destroy a city, then we are all at risk.’

  ‘Why are you telling us this?’ What he said made sense. I feared and waited for what else he might reveal.

  ‘You cannot pass the Mithranalian Gate without a dispensation from the College of Trade or the Emperor himself.’

  ‘And you have such a dispensation?’ I said.

  ‘No, I do not,’ he said.

  ‘So how is it you think you can help us?’ Carnelia asked.

  ‘I cannot get you through the gate,’ Tenebrae said. He holstered his pistol and sheathed his gladius. ‘But I can get you under it.’

  We followed Tenebrae through the alleys. He led his horse and we rode, north and away from the Mithranalian Gate.

  ‘How can we trust him, sissy?’ Carnelia said, from the corner of her mouth.

  ‘How can we trust anyone? You just put your faith in whatever connection you feel, you hope your decision isn’t shite,’ I said. ‘Do you believe him about the gates and Rume’s fearfulness?’

  ‘Yes,’ Carnelia said. ‘It is a sore blow. Beleth wielded almost godlike destruction against us. Would that I had killed the man back on the Cornelian.’

  ‘I have wished the same thing,’ I said. ‘We will remain wary and watchful, but what other choice do we have? We must leave Rume and the night is growing long. I would be miles away before the sun rises.’

  Carnelia nodded, tight-lipped.

  Tenebrae led us to a stable. There was a small sign with a gold-enamelled signet of crossed gladii framed in laurels. Below that, a stylised bull with a dog biting at its neck and a scorpion stinging its testicles.

  This answered some questions.

  ‘So, the praetorians are aligned to Mithras, is that it? How do the priests of Ia feel about this?’ I asked Tenebrae as we dismounted.

  ‘The priests of Ia content themselves with sweet boys and Gallish whores and the contemplation of the food served at the final father’s triclinium and allow the praetorians to do as they will, as long as we remain true to our earthly Father,’ Tenebrae responded. He pulled open a large stall and, gesturing as if welcoming us all to his home, he said. ‘Here we are. Dismount and bring your packs. There will be horses on the other side.’

  Carnelia clutched her sword and said, ‘How do we know you’re not leading us into a trap?’

  Tenebrae shook his head in disappointment. ‘I could’ve called for guards a dozen times over. Would you just get over yourself for a moment and think. I am risking everything for you and all I’m getting in return is stupid Ia-damned questions.’

  Carnelia blanched and fell silent. They were similar, those two – mercurial and sharp, but heedless and mouthy. Had he been inclined toward females, they might have made each other happy. And miserable. And happy again.

  But that was not to be.

  We untacked the horses, and the weight of both our rucksacks and the saddles and gear was tremendous.

  Lupina bore her pack without complaint – and Fiscelion, too, who began to make sounds of discomfort.

  ‘Quick,’ Tenebrae said. ‘Before the lad begins to bawl.’ He went to the back of the stable and, pressing one of the planks, opened a door that swung inward. ‘It’s steep for the first fifty or so paces, and then it levels out.’ The passageway revealed was old, made by hands hundreds of generations past. The fitted stones ran away into the darkness, shining with moisture. A cold wind blew from the open mouth, and the smell of mould and rotten things came with it. ‘The praetorians have always been more than guards to the Emperor,’ Tenebrae said. He pulled a small mirrored daemonlight from his cloak and held it up, illuminating the darkness. ‘We were clandestine, once. And not entirely honourable.’

  Carnelia barked out a muffled laugh.

  ‘Aye, you think me treacherous. But I swear to you I am not. I loved your brother as much as I love myself. I would gladly return him to you and take his place.’

  ‘Fat lot of good that does us now,’ Carnelia said.

  ‘Sissy. Listen to the man for once and put aside this childish rancour,’ I said. ‘Do you truly think he colluded with Tamberlaine?’

  There was a long silence broken only by our footfalls on the slick stones and Fiscelion’s intermittent vocalisations of discomfort. He would cry soon.

  ‘No,’ Carnelia said. It was reluctant. She had always been slow to admit wrong and despite all the changes within her since leaving the Hardscrabble, one can never deny one’s own nature.

  ‘Then stop this childishness and focus on our task. We must leave. If we are not miles away by morning, I fear we will never leave Rume,’ I said.

  Carnelia said nothing. Tenebrae spoke: ‘Where will we go? They will be watching the ports, once they know you’re gone.’

  ‘North and east, I think. To the sunken city of Nexia on the tongue of the Nous Sea. Tamberlaine will expect us to go to Ostia, or south to Cambria or Pintus, to find passage. They are mendacious, but direct in their mendacity. We shall be circuitous,’ I said. The flagstones of the passage were treacherous and with my rucksack and saddle, both my legs and arms ached with the exertion. The walls dripped now, and the ambient light from the doorway was gone – only Tenebrae’s daemonlight provided any illumination.

  It was a relief, then, when Fiscelion began to cry in earnest. Our little party stopped then, and Lupina dropped her burden and began to unsling the child.

  ‘Will he be heard above?’ Carnelia asked. Her tone had changed, and she was tentative.

  I could not see it, but I did sense it in his voice – a smile. He said, ‘No, as long as the lad is not too vociferous. On the Malphas, his wailing would seep into every room through the bulkheads. It was a hard journey—’

  ‘You should—’ Carnelia said with anger and then stopped herself.

  ‘His britches are soiled,’ Lupina said. ‘Little man, we’re going to clean you right up. Yes we are,’ she said in a singsong voice. She lay him on the hollow underside of the saddle and changed his nappy with deft hands. It was cold there and he squalled and squirmed. The soiled cloth she tied tightly and left on the ground. ‘Will he take
the teat, you think, ma’am?’

  ‘He would, but let us save that until both of us need it more,’ I said.

  We took back up our packs and saddles and continued on.

  In the darkness, we came upon a grate, thick steel bands inset in stone. Tenebrae withdrew a key and inserted it into a recessed stone enclosure. It unlocked with a loud click that echoed strangely off the stones.

  ‘When Ia came to us, the worship of Mithras was outlawed for a time. Soldiers have always loved the bull god, and that has never changed. Ia is Father, but Mithras, in his mystery, is succour and friend. We had to hide our rituals and tauroctonys, and so The Skein was created, a maze beneath this part of the city where we could celebrate our warlike god without fear of condemnation or persecution.’

  ‘That is why we entered through the stable! The tauroctony!’ Carnela was excited, and all her rancour at Tenebrae gone. Emotions passed over her like wind over shoal grasses. ‘To bring in the bulls!’

  Tenebrae smiled again. ‘Yes. And they would come here,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’

  The maze opened before us. There were many doorways and passages with very little indication or demarcation as to the difference between any one or another. But Tenebrae led us on, confidently and swiftly. We passed through small, dripping chambers reeking of rotten meat, and other sections that seemed dry and sandy and smelled of tallow. One room was full of casks – of ale, wine, oil, fish-pickle, salt-pork and more I could not tell. Eventually, we came to another grate with a lock. Tenebrae withdrew his key once more – as he took it from his tunic I caught a glimpse of the stylised bull-head that crowned it – and, using it, gave us passage beyond.

  ‘It is not far now,’ Tenebrae said. ‘We go down more. Your feet will get wet, I’m afraid.’ He looked at the ceiling. Moisture beaded and dripped here. ‘Ack, I hope this damned rain hasn’t flooded the culvert,’ he said, and moved on before I could question him about it.

  The passage sloped downward and water began lapping and splashing at every footfall. Soon we were up to our knees. And after twenty more paces, our waists.

  ‘Give me that saddle,’ Tenebrae said to Lupina. He took it and bent over. ‘Climb up, Madame. Climb up. Today you have a fairer mount than you’ve had before, I should think.’ He pulled his cloak to the side and bent over.

  Lupina moved Fiscelion’s sling around to one side so that my child was nestled under her arm rather than her bosom. The sling was quite an ingenious contraption and spoke highly of the cleverness of dvergar, I should say. Had Lupina not been there, I would have been at a loss for what to do in the situation. I thanked the gods – Ia, Mithras, the Mater, Pater Dis – that fate had brought this indomitable little woman to me, and that I had had the sense to fight to keep her near me before our ill-fated journey to Kithai.

  Once Lupina had her arms around Tenebrae’s neck and was secure, he hefted high her saddle and waded into the rising water, full force. My arms were of lead, and I was growing weak from the exertions of the night, but I managed to lift my saddle above my head and follow him into the frigid water.

  We pushed on. All feeling left my legs and my heart hammered in my chest like a smith at an anvil. My breaths came in short, sharp inhalations. But we kept moving.

  Fiscelion began to cry, softly at first, but louder and louder as time went on.

  I wanted to cry out, to drop the saddle and take him in my arms. Why was he with Lupina and not me? I could not say, then.

  He screamed and whined. It pitched up and down. He wanted to feed. He was wet. He was cold. He was in distemper.

  Water now at my breasts and my breath coming in heaves. The water pushed against me: a current here. A current in these dark waters. I lost my footing and went down, under water. Silence except for the expansive hush of liquid filling my ears. The shock of icy cold. My saddle slipped from my grasp and I knew not where it was but I was glad it was gone.

  I felt strong hands and a powerful heave.

  ‘Ia-dammit, sissy. You’re like a fatted cow. Get up and come!’ Carnelia said, dragging me through the water. My clothes, lead-heavy. Stones tied around my neck, fitted to me like a gown of rocks.

  I was insensible in the dark. I could not feel except to know my body shook, my teeth clattered. I smelled only must and mould, and the minerals in the water. The rhythm of breathing gave measure to my world.

  And then it grew shallower and a light came from in front of us. Carnelia released my arm and pushed ahead.

  We came out into the pre-dawn light, sodden, with a squalling child, in the shadow of the great wall of Rume.

  Tenebrae let Lupina down on the ground. ‘Quiet the child and follow! Swiftly! A half mile and we’ll find horses. And horse blankets,’ he said, and the urgency in his voice was unmistakable. He glanced up to where the wall of Rume met sky and, finding no guards looking down, said again, ‘Come!’

  We followed.

  SEVEN

  Are You Out Of Your Ia-Damned Mind?

  THIRTEEN WAS OUR number, and I couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or bad.

  The dvergar busied themselves cooking the horse, and drinking the stinking water of the Bitter Spring and refilling their stocks, as could be expected. They made much ado of Bess and stripped and re-organised her packs to stow their gear. Bess, during the process, cast me agonised looks and hawed, showing her teeth and gums. But she did not buck. They ran blunt hands over her sides and spoke to her in soft tones, cooing in dvergar tongue.

  A woman washed and tended my neck, where the daemon-gripped had bitten. I grimaced, and managed, myself, not to buck.

  Not counting Fisk and myself, there were seven men and four women in the dvergar group and all seemed, if not battle hardened, then unfazed by the current situation. Such are my kin: they take chance and fortune as it comes and spend not much time in bemoaning or exulting in fate. I know not if that is a trick of racial demeanour or physical heritage, or neither. But it is true. We are survivors, my kind.

  Inbhir, the bruiser that Praeverta called ‘Catch Hands,’ stayed busy, trotting up and down gulleys and into cave mouths, searching the area for points of defence, and points of opportunity. The one called Vrinthi took stock of weapons – our meagre supply – and found himself face to face with Fisk when he began inventorying our weapons. It was not an easy exchange, the dwarf facing the dour man, and neither came from it feeling good about the experience.

  ‘The number of your guns?’ Vrinthi asked.

  ‘Three,’ said Fisk. ‘The carbine is here.’ He was reclining against his saddle, smoking a cigarette. We had been awake for almost two score hours, since we’d caught naps a good day’s ride from the ruin of Harbour Town, and weariness, at this point, was overcoming us. Fisk patted the sweat-stained leather, and pulled off the blanket, revealing the haft of the rifle. ‘You can take it for use against the Medierans, and its ammunition. There should be quite a few rounds in the magazine. I will expect it returned.’

  Vrinthi nodded sombrely. ‘And your other weapons?’

  ‘None of your concern. Take the carbine and let me rest.’

  ‘I need to make count of all ammunition so that it can be distributed for best coverage and usage,’ Vrinthi said. He had the dogged aspect of a man that takes his job very seriously, because failing to do so would not only break him, it would leave him devoid of meaning.

  ‘You’ll just have to trust that I will make good use of my ammunition and move along, friend,’ Fisk said.

  Vrinthi frowned and reached down as if to unclasp Fisk’s gun belt. Fisk’s hand flashed and he had the barrel of his six-gun pressed into the dwarf’s eye socket. He rose.

  ‘Little friend, you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives one damn if you live or die. But let me assure you, if I hear one more word issue from your idiot mouth regarding my weapons, I will waste one of my rounds and put it right here,’ Fisk said, jabbing the gun barrel into the ocular cavity. Vrinthi cried out in pain. ‘And afterwards, you won’t even be able t
o adjust your tally.’

  ‘Vrinthi!’ Praeverta said. ‘Come away. They are not of us.’

  ‘Yes, Matve!’ Vrinthi said immediately, placing his hand over his eye. Fisk pulled the carbine and offered it to him, stock first. The dwarf took it and moved away.

  Once the dvergar had moved away, Fisk sank back down against his saddle. I sat near him. Weariness washed over me from the days on the run.

  ‘How soon, do you think, before they get here?’ I asked, looking up into the night sky. From where we sat near the Bitter Spring, the smooth rock faces of the adjoining gulleys framed the heavens in a rough X shape. Stars pricked the dark.

  ‘Few hours, maybe. Dawn, likely. They can’t travel fast at night, and they don’t know the land. If their daemon-gripped can smell, like they look like they can, they may be here before that, but it’s unlikely.’

  ‘Lina,’ Praeverta called. ‘What is the situation? How many and how far?’

  A dark-haired young dvergar woman came toward Praeverta and said, ‘I’ll need to get some distance away, but I will check.’ There was something familiar about her – her face, her skin, her demeanour and carriage all seemed like I had seen her before. Maybe back in Harbour Town, at the vaettir meeting hall.

  ‘Yes,’ Praeverta said. ‘Let us move away, and get to ground where you can hear what you can hear.’ They walked away, down one of the gulleys, away from the rest of us and the Bitter Spring. Not understanding fully what I was doing, or why, I followed.

  Away from the cook fire, my eyes adjusted to the dark and it was easy to follow the women. They had found a switchback path that climbed on the ledge of one of the dead-end canyons and it was there I came upon them. Praeverta looked at me silently, as I drew near. The one she called Lina lay upon the ground, her face pressed to the bare stone of the earth.

  Breathless, she listened and we remained silent. Off in the darkness came a single screech, from what sort of creature I couldn’t tell. Stretcher, cat, coyote, man, raptor – it could have been any, or none at all.

  Eventually, the younger dvergar woman rose and dusted herself off. ‘There are over fifteen riders, and they are at least two hours away. Maybe more.’